


The Dark

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Darkening of Valinor, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of Morgoth's attack, Curufin's Wife looks for her son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Fills for the Free Space in my Trope Bingo card (using Cannon Fodder as a trope).

Héruminyë tentatively lifted her head. The danger, whatever it was, had passed. Her ears had stopped ringing and she could hear the choked sobbing of the person lying down next to her. The crushing weight that had flattened them to the ground was gone, though darkness still clung to everything, like a hideous solid thing pouring down from the sky, and a foul vapour rose from the sticky damp ground.

Héruminyë forced herself to stand up, and took a few uncertain steps.

She hadn't gone far when she stumbled on a prone body, lost her balance and fell. A shrill cry erupted from her throat, confusion affecting her more than pain itself. She groped in the darkness, and hit her right hand on something metal. The shape of it seemed familiar, and Héruminyë latched onto it, taking in a deep breath in grateful relief: it was a lamp. 

The lamp shone as bright as ever, and normally she would have been able to see the whole of her surroundings. Now she could barely see the earth around her feet. She stood again, and started picking her way through prone bodies and people sitting up uncertainly, as if stunned out of their minds. Her light shone on pale stricken faces, tear-stained cheeks, vacuous eyes, but she didn't linger on any of them, cutting through the darkness as a knife slices cheese open. After much floundering she reached a tree, and realised she had headed in the opposite direction from the fortress. She cursed and spun around, retracing her steps, doing her best to keep walking in a straight line.

Where the walls of the keep should have been, she found only rubble. An arm stuck out from under a large angular boulder. Her heart leapt in her throat, not so much at the idea that whoever lay under the boulder was surely dead, but because she suddenly remembered that Tyelperinquar and she had been skirting those very walls before becoming separated in the turmoil of the sudden dark. 

She turned her head frantically in every direction. She tried to focus. Tyelperinquar had been wearing a bright-coloured tunic and an embroidered cape. They had been planning to go to the village further down the vale before something – it had to be Melkor – had enfolded them in dread. Her mind went to her husband and his brothers, away on their own far up into the mountains. And the King, who had stayed in the keep...

She reined in those thoughts, but her hand shook, and lamp-light flickered before her.

Suddenly, hands gripped her legs. Her eyes shot down, landing on a man who stared wide-eyed back up at her.

“My Lady,” the man breathed, his fingers digging in her pants. 

She lowered her free hand to try to pry his hands away from her.

“I –” Her voice cracked. Her mouth was dry. “Stay here. I will –”

She didn't finish, having no idea what to say, but the man let her go, slumping back to the ground like an emptied bag. 

Tyelperinquar was lying face down to the left of the destroyed walls. A large embroidered design on the back of his cape made him stand out among the prone bodies. Carnistir had fussed for a long time over the emblem, and silver thread glinted when she shone her lamp on it, forming the shape of a butterfly. She instantly dropped to her knees, setting the lamp down next to her.

“Tyelperinquar,” she called. She grabbed his shoulders and tried to roll him over – not an easy feat, for though barely of age, he had the hefty build of his grandfather and uncle Tyelcormo, and weighed accordingly. 

“Tyelperinquar,” she repeated, more frantic, “it's me.”

Tyelperinquar stirred. Groaning, he followed the motion of her hands, rolled over, and let himself be pulled up. He was cold. Héruminyë had to give him several pats on his mud-stained cheeks before his eyes focused on her. His lips moved, but no sound came out of them.

“It's all right now,” she said. She wrapped her arms around him, and forcibly pulled him in her embrace. 

Tyelperinquar went from paralysed with cold and dread to shaking uncontrollably. 

A shriek went up in the dark. Later, Héruminyë learned that a woman who had fled with her baby in her arms came back to her senses to find him dead: she had clamped her hand on his mouth to prevent him from crying, and so unintentionally killed him. 

“I'm here with you,” she whispered in the silence which followed the scream, stinging as if made of needle-pricks. “Your father and uncles will come back...soon. I'm sure –”

“Grandfather is dead.” 

Héruminyë tensed. The words – a soft murmur against her chest – chilled her to the bone. “How –”

Tyelperinquar shuddered violently. “I know.”

“Oh,” Héruminyë sobbed. A second darkness washed down on her, heavier, more ominous than the first. She started rocking back and forth, crying quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> Ungoliant's unlight was strong enough to repel Tulkas and Oromë and their maiar, so I think the people in Formenos (and neighbouring areas) suffered a lot under it, even if Finwë was the only one to die (which can be doubted).
> 
> The Valar sent them no sort of help – the sons of Fëanor have to make the trip in the darkness to bring news of the destruction – even though Námo knew that Finwë was dead and Manwë had seen Melkor moving northwards. Finwë had also warned Manwë that Melkor had been in Formenos once already. 
> 
> On the whole, the episode to me explains why Fëanor's people (including his sons) were so determined to leave: from their point of view, Melkor could attack them whenever he wanted in Valinor too, and the Valar would do nothing to help them.


End file.
